


A reason to sing

by ladyerrant



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyerrant/pseuds/ladyerrant
Summary: Old crusty gunslinger develops feels for an Osh-Tekk general.
Relationships: Erron Black/Kotal Kahn
Kudos: 7





	1. Moon under water

**Author's Note:**

> rating will likely change as the story progresses, tags will be added.
> 
> Kotal is not Kahn in this-just having fun with the idea of this relationship happening in some alternative timeline.

Chewing up the words in his mouth, able to feel the steps beneath his feet-imaging the ache of tired bones with each movement. Tired now-swollen, still standing in place, watching silently, eyes watering as he tested himself-how long he could keep his eyes open. All he wanted was to go grab his saving grace-settle himself down at home and drink until he fell asleep. The soft murmuring of voices in front of him making him sigh, wishing for the conversation to dwindle. A small nod in his direction, a good night mentioned to him as he took his leave-he swiveled on his feet-bidding his goodbye. “Just you, huh?” Turning a corner, a figure he could make half draped in soft shadows. Acknowledgement in the form of a huff-eyes narrowing as they settled on him.

“Relieved for the night so soon-”

“It’s damn late, ain’t runnin’ on whatever shit you and Ermac got-” Behind the mask he bit at the inside of his mouth before taking in a deep breath, limitations he was aware of-a few hours of sleep and he’d be right as rain. Maybe just a little bit hungover. 

“Have.” A low rattle at the end of his response, lips teasing up-the dim light reflecting off of his teeth.

“Whatever, see you…” Erron sighed, patting at his thigh-muscle shaking, the pause in his trajectory seemingly making his body cry out in disagreement. He glanced down the open passageway to the broad doors “whenever I see you” he finished with grunt, making his way towards those doors-feeling more than one pair of eyes on his back.

Down familiar stairs, through hallways-a short walk until he was outside, ready to breath in the fresh night air. 

“Erron Black…”

He slowed his pace, bringing two fingers up to his temple:a simple salute-not in any mood to deal with any prods or thinly veiled complaints. “Ladies… enjoyin’ the evening?”

“We were…”

Rolling his eyes, internally at least-listening to the disapproving groan that turned into a chuckle, Kitana covering her face with a hand, nudging Jade gently.

“Well, don’t let me ruin your party… I’m headin’ home. You know where to find me if’n you need anything.” Cordial, keeping his words measured, a slight annoyance in his stomach-quickly disappearing.

“As a matter of fact, we will require your presence now…” Kitana turned to face him, her voice light, eyes searching his face. Beside her Jade hummed, leaning further against the wide stone banister at the end of the stairs-tipping her head back and watching the stars now making their appearance. 

“Sure…” He rolled his shoulders, glancing up at the sky and finding the brightest star-watching it for a moment before muttering out that he’d make his way back in. Kitana flanking him as he hiked back up, explaining the reason-he listened intently, nodding every now and then, though he knew she easily caught on to his manner of communicating. Conversation picking up behind him, Kitana falling back to join Jade-slowly walking behind them. Craning his neck, looking back ever so slightly at them-chuckling softly to himself when he caught Jade’s eyes widen and her brows furrow. 

Back in his usual position, grumbling low in his throat-masking it with a light cough. He looked up, watching the men enter. Heralded by two guards, four bodies-Erron’s brows raising up a centimeter as he looked over the man leading the group. Shifting on his feet, he reached over to touch at the small of his back-pulling the fabric of his shirt that was now sticking to his skin. He was used to being taller than most of the people he encountered here-he rummaged through his mind, wondering if he’d ever caught sight of this man. Standing around during a few processions of their soldiers, having lagged behind one evening years ago-watching. A better view of the man as the group approached, certainty in his gut that he’d never seen him-he’d have remembered those eyes. Keying in to the discourse, Sindel addressing each member of the party-slow dips of their heads as they stepped forward. The members of a brigade, differing positions, the last one addressed as their general. Knees locking up, he moved again-a few steps to the side, working out the buzzing he was feeling in his left leg. An impromptu military meeting, mundane information divulged, mild concerns voiced-he failed to focus too much on what was being said. Never a concern of his, not taking interest in any military babble-had enough of it back in Earthrealm-though now, he listened intently to every word-not understanding but listening. An eloquence in the way he spoke, the candor of his voice commanding his ears-deep and resounding. A break in the conversation, their requests made known-acknowledged. They were thanked for their dedication to service and dismissed, he watched the two guards close rank around the group, to be walked back outside, to that cool night air Erron wanted so desperately to fill his lungs. Eyeing each one over again-flicking his gaze lazily over to their general, stomach tightening when those eyes staring back at him. Thoughtful, looking him over just as he’d done to them when they entered the room. A few seconds before the man turned heel and followed his group, heading towards the double doors. 

He stood in place, keeping his eyes locked on them-mulled conversation, a few short laughs echoing through the corridor they turned into. “Erron.” Turning back to face her, he raised his brows “I appreciate you taking the time to be here, given that I had only recently relieved you of your charges…”

“No… it’s fine. Got nothin’ better to do-” Erron shrugged in response, waiting for the go ahead to leave.

That short walk back outside, cut in half as he half ran through the passageways, the sound of his steps echoing through his ears. Far from the palace, meandering through streets he knew like the back of his hand-deeper into the city, avoiding the bustle of people though it’d surely be dwindling by now, taking back alleys and hugging walls before he caught sight of his home stretch. Trash littering the ground, he carefully watched his footing as he approached the back of the building-dim light from a lantern glowing weakly ahead of him-the grumbles and half curses of a familiar voice joining the sound of clattering bottles. Hard of hearing, or so he pretended to be-Erron slowed his steps, gingerly lifting his feet and setting them down with as little weight as he could. Closer to the man, able to see the sweat glistening off of the bald spot on the back of his head. The man’s curses more heated, knocking over a crate-the loud clatter of sound sending a few birds flying off of the building’s roof. Fingers pointed into a mock gun-he jabbed them between his shoulder blades "reach for the sky-'' he lowered his voice, making it raspier, deeper-falling off into a laugh as the man yelped and tried to spin around. 

“Shit-” Near tripping over a few bottles around his feet, Erron reached out for him and steadied him-grasping him by the front of his shirt “why must you do this?” a weak push against his chest, the man finding his footing and glaring up at him. 

“Gotta keep myself entertained…” Erron patted him on the back before bending down to pick up the bottles that had rolled towards his feet. “Got a damn mess back here, ya pack rat-” he handed the bottles over-Thamir grinned broadly.

“Not a mess… this is perfectly organized…” Bottles in hand, he made his way back to the small shack he’d been digging through-stuffing the bottles into the empty crate that had tumbled over. “Perfect…” he murmured again-grabbing the lantern he’d set down, bringing it up to his face and twisting the silver tab at it’s base, light brightening. “You are here for your drinks?”

Erron nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, following after the shorter man as he made his way to the back door of the building-keys jingling in his hand, he offered out the lantern for Erron to hold. Mumbled out curses under his breath as he rolled each key through his fingers before finally coming across the right one-shoving the door open and beckoning him inside. 

A longer walk back, retracing his steps-slower as awkwardly tried to pass through tin alleyways with the crates beneath each arm. The roughly hewn exterior pushing into his hip bones-the clattering of bottles against each other singing in his ears. Puddles avoided-hopping over them with the grace of a bull in a china shop, he groaned with each step. Years ago he'd been offered the chance of having them delivered straight to his house-the notion quickly rejected. No need for anyone hanging around where he put his feet up. He didn't mind this, looked forward to it every week-the walk to the bar and back home, a chance to just focus on the cooling air around his body, the sounds of busy city streets slowly diminishing-giving way to the chirp of insects and the clatter of movement slowing down. At least where he was used to stomping around-knowing full well the annoyance of visiting areas of the city well below sundown. That fresh air, he stopped earlier, further away from the outcroppings of buildings and prying eyes, pealing off his mask and setting it into a pocket. Low lying building in sight, noting the peeling of paint on it's exterior-he kicked open the door to his house, frowning when it squealed and came back too fast, knocking him on the knee. With a groan he pushed through, careful with the crates now held snugly against his chest. Darkness inside-the familiar smell of cigarette smoke in his nose met with the smell of a pungent oil, having shined and waxed his collection of leathers in the morning. A soft tune whistled between his teeth as he made his way towards the table he knew was set somewhere to his left-prodding gently with an outstretched foot-hitting the leg of it. He hauled the crates on top of it and worked to lift off the lid of one-reaching in and pulling out one bottle. Hands drifting over the edge of the table, he placed the lip of the bottle cap onto the edge of it-slapping a hand down and smiling at the hiss of carbonation-the cap clattering to the ground. The lantern somewhere in the kitchen-small windows on the far wall giving him a little bit of light to work with-able to see the outlines of shadows and the heavy mass of the stove centered in front of him. He undressed-unbuckling his belts, holsters draped over a chair beside him before he worked on slipping out of his trousers, jacket and shit-tossing the clothes onto the table. “There ya are...'' he muttered to himself, finding the reflection of white light off of glass. Still full of gas, he lit it-warm orange now painting the inside of the kitchen. A few more bottles and lantern in hand he walked out to the living room-settling himself down into the worn chair that would always cradle his tired body at the end of a long day. Lantern set down on a makeshift workbench pressed up against the wall, he stared at the flicker of light as he tipped back a bottle-the cool touch of glass against his lips as he drank, focusing on the taste; lingering spices backing up the kick of spirits-hot and biting.

A laundry list of things to do tomorrow, making a mental note. Wetting his lips again-grimacing at the tear of spirits down his throat. His old Henry, hung over the workbench-he cracked an eye open and stared at it. Could bare to clean it, take it apart and get it up to snuff again-replace the one he'd been carrying for a few years now. He took a deep breath in, already imagining the smell of his gun oil-the curious sweetness to it, a dark cinnamon. He chuckled, remembering the last time he'd cleaned his guns-how Kitana had mentioned he smelled nice. He leaned back further-sinking into the cushions of his chair. Staring up at the ceiling-watching the dance of shadows and light-warped by the lantern’s glass. Those eyes appearing back in his mind-he tried to recall the man’s name, searching through whatever was cataloged in his brain. Of no use, drawing a blank. Always good with faces, able to memorize them, pick out a person from a crowd that he’d seen just once before, but names-he licked his lips, reaching down for another bottle and cracking it open-names oftentimes left him. Another long swig of his favorite drink, he sighed and tentatively closed his eyes. Head lulling-chin coming to rest near his collarbone, he breathed in deeply, the hardness of liquor having it's effect. "Kotal-" he murmured, sitting up straight and looking into the bottle-watching the dark liquid catch a glimmer of light as he swirled it. He grinned-somehow pulled up through the fog-chalking up a victory for himself, remembering the man's name. A laugh building in his gut, shaking his head at the excitement he felt-he finished off the bottle and set it down on the ground. Sleep growing in his mind-tired limbs relaxing, he grabbed another drink and opened it-taking a small sip before holding it against his chest and shutting his aching eyes. 


	2. Above the clouds

Two thumps against the door-the sound making his ears ring as he came to. “Goddamn it…” he sat up, groaning at the tight pull of stiff muscles around his hips and shoulders. Falling asleep in the chair, remembering he had meant to make it to bed before he finally dozed off and that thought was forgotten. He’d be paying for that all day-he swallowed hard, the acidic taste of sleep in his mouth. Opening his eyes he sighed, the interior of the living cast in dim early morning light-grey and muted. “Shit… fuckin’ shit...:'' pain in his eyesocket’s as he pushed fingertips against his lidded eyes. Bottles clattering around his feet as he kicked them away-roughly standing and managing a short stretch, anything further and he’d be cursing himself. He walked over to the door, slow steps-measuring his time as he tried to wake up further. Dull pain rippling through his cheeks as he lightly slapped at them-he took in a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hey, Macky-” he hid a yawn behind his mouth before giving them a small wave. A glance outside, past them-the gentle blue of predawn, strips of wispy clouds clinging near the horizon already beginning to lighten. “It’s uh… real early, what’s up?”

“You are needed at the palace.” They responded quickly, eyes slowly drifting to look over Erron’s shoulder, peering in “you still live in this level of disarray…”

Erron snorted, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and blocking their view “been busy.” he deflected their comment, raising a hand to rub at his chin, feeling out the scrape of stubble.

“Where’s Reptile? Ain’t he usually up around this time lurking in that damn palace?”

“He was tasked with a charge the night prior, he is not here.”

“Lucky bastard.” Erron chuckled, his amusement dissolving-not accustomed to being awoken so early, already feeling the sting of tiredness pour back into his legs. “Well, best go get myself proper-be down there in a flash-'' he clicked his tongue, offering them a nod. The gesture returned before they turned and left towards the worn path that ended up a yards away from the palace grounds.

Door shut gently, pushing it hard against the frame as it jammed slightly-he tipped his head back a stifled another yawn. Clean clothes in his room, he entered it quickly, glaring at the bed, realizing he might as well take up drinking in his room again. Trousers pulled up, he fumbled with the belt-growling low in his throat as he tightened it to the hole he knew he was at, leather peeling and wearing down though it still held. A pat at the buckle, fingers drifting over the flourishes that embossed it, he looked over the shirts folded in the dresser-picking out a light tan, holding his favorite bronze collar tips. He slipped his arms through the sleeves, teasing each button through slowly-stomach rising and falling gently with each breath of stale air he took in. Window cracked open-fresh air flowing into the room-he headed back into the kitchen. All else he needed thrown on the table last night, he chucked on his jacket and buckled up his holsters-touching at the exposed grip of both irons before making his way over to the stove. A pot of coffee-burbling and gently hissing on the stove top. He tossed a thick slice of bread onto a burner-watching it carefully as it toasted quickly. A thick pad of butter slapped onto it once it was the right color on both sides. All he could make, ingredients from here that he was able to fashion into just what his gut called out for, through some things he had to pay a premium for… those damn coffee beans. Eaten in a hurry, the lump of bread sitting cold in his stomach before he followed it down with his mug of coffee-sweetened just as he needed it. Boots and his favorite hat-he touched at the silver coin’s studding the leather band before placing it on his loosely combed hair.

He shut the door behind him, standing still for a moment and taking in a deep breath of air-the smells of earth and dirt filling up his nose. A moment to himself, wishing he had the time to just sit outside and slowly take down his coffee. He grunted, shaking his head and making his way down a trampled trail in the ground that led to the rear of his house-coming to a stop before a sturdy fence, what he’d been able to set up for his mount ages ago. He caught her, standing gently against the fence posts a few feet away from him-head dipping down, still sleeping. Feed tossed onto the ground, enough to tide her over if he made it home later than expected. “See ya later, Odey…” he murmured out, watching her for a minute before turning and heading down that familiar path.

Meandering throughout halls-aimlessly for a good time before resuming his usual tasks, standing in on a few mundane meetings. Approached around midday by Kitana, a package handed over to him. “Honest?” Erron chewed his lip, choosing his words “can ya get someone else, I mean…” he leaned back, staring at the wrapped bundle in his arms, stacks of parchment beneath a thick layer of leather and tightly wound twine. He sighed, already knowing what the response would be.

“We can’t merely hand this off to anyone, Erron. It might not be of the utmost importance but it still requires… a certain level of security.”

“Understood… be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail-”

She smiled, a small laugh leaving her lips as she reached out and quickly patted his shoulder “Thank you.”

Borrowing a mount from one of the guards outside-he scratched at it’s rough hide for a second, familiarizing himself with it before hopping on and trekking forward. A few miles away, a gentle canter held-breeze whipping through his shirt, grin behind his face as he decided to urge his mount faster-lifting a hand and grasping on to his haircase, making sure it didn’t take flight.

On the same path-wide and dusty, plumes of dirt kicked up as he passed by a few carts, towards the colosseum, near it-a few flat stretches of earth, barracks held beside them. He urged his mount to slow, a light squeeze around it’s rips-shifting on its back as he adjusted himself. In front of him-some form of training, a larger grouping of people milling around-some sitting or laying on the ground, watching those few who were sparring. He cleared his throat and pulled his rucksack over towards his chest before hopping off his mount-he walked over to the group, noticing how they quickly keyed into his presence and turned to watch him approach. His path intercepted, a woman side stepping in front of him-eyes drifting up and down. “Do you have something for us?” she asked, curiosity in her tone-she turned away from him, motioning for someone-words in a familiar language Erron had learned over the years though he rarely spoke it. A man lounging on the ground-having kept his gaze fixed on the young man and woman who were trading blows. That voice he’d heard last night, bored out of his mind in the throne room-a response offered to the woman’s question. “Come with me...a strong slap against his arm, he gathered himself and chuckled-returning her enthusiasm.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Kotal, I believe this man has what you requested.” She led the way-making a beeline over towards the man on the ground.

“Does he…” He spoke softly, eyes picking apart the movement in front of him.

Erron glanced down at him, keeping the bundle tucked tightly under his right arm. Gaze redirected, a loud shout let out by the man in the center of the loosely held circle of bodies-thin wooden pole held in hand-a strike easily avoided-the woman using her height difference and pushing into him-disarming him and letting the pole land off to the side. A sharp whistle, their bout settled. The man lifted himself from the ground-face pulled into a grimace, bending down to reach for the pole before throwing it to the side. A clamor of sound-forced back laughter for a moment, before it erupted-the pole finding itself tossed against a bundle barely propped up against a wide metal drum, clattering haphazardly-nearly jabbing an eye out as Erron stuck out a hand-pushing them away from his face. “Damn, bastard…” he groaned beneath his breath-taking a side step back and staring down the man that was now making his way to sit in the circle. Beside him the woman sighed, glancing over at Kotal.

“I will go speak with him…”

Kotal stood slowly, walking over to where the poles had fallen-strewn beside Erron’s feet “How many times have we spoken with him-” he stooped down, gathering up the poles-shuffling them together with two hands and setting them beside the drum. “My apologies…” addressing Erron, stopping to stand in front of him as the women made her way to the man sitting cross legged on the ground. “I do not believe we have been properly introduced.”

Erron voiced his agreement, offering out his hand-Kotal clasping on and squeezing tightly, a firm grip “Erron, it’s a pleasure.” his hand was rough, surprisingly warm.

“Kotal-” he loosened his grip and dropped his arm, turning and pointing out the woman “Izem, my second in command.”

A hand lifted up-meeting her eyes and giving a short wave, the wave returned. “Well, general-got this for ya…” he patted at the package under his arm, handing it over to the man when he reached out for it.

“There is no need to address me as such…” Kotal smiled, focusing down at the package in his hands and teasing his fingers around the twine “you are not conscripted under my command.”

Erron chuckled, removing his hat and wafting air towards his face-the sun beating down on them without mercy. He stared at the young man again-his lips pulled down into a tight frown as he stood and followed Izem away towards the barracks. “Mad enough to bite himself, huh?”

“Hmm, it would appear so.” Kotal followed his gaze “challenges to be faced as always, though I don’t believe I’ve ever had a more headstrong individual under my charge.”

“Yeah? Some of these kids…” Headstrong or full of themselves, just like their most recent addition of guards-the training in which he often oversaw, finding himself on more than one occasion damn near pulling his hair out “I swear, if their brains were dynamite-there wouldn’t be enough to blow their noses…” he murmured, shaking his head.

Kotal turned back to face him, lips teasing up into a grin-a deep rumble of laughter leaving him “Excuse me?”

Looking up at him-tipping his head back slightly, joining in to his laughter with a gentle chuckle “well, y’know… ain’t got much knockin’ around in their noggins-” he explained himself, Kotal sighing slowly before nodding his understanding.

“In some cases… certainly not all. They are able to learn...”

“But ya can’t fix stupid.”

Kotal raised a brow-the corner of his lips gently twitching down before he hummed “perhaps.” He reached out, setting a hand on Erron’s shoulder “If may extend the invitation, would you like to stay for a moment?”

That warmth, slipping past his jacket and shirt “wish I could, but I should probably be headin’ back to the palace, don’t want them worrying too much about me-” he responded, a mild interest in taking him up on his offer and staying for a few minutes longer.

“Of course…” Hand dropped from Erron’s shoulder, he redirected his attention to the wrapped bundle of papers “I appreciate you taking the time to bring this to me.”

“Didn’t really have much of a choice” Erron laughed, tossing a wink at the man “take care of yourself, Kotal. I’ll see you around...”  
One end of twine slowly being pulled, held tight between Kotal’s fingers-the loop unfurling, gaze on Erron again “take care, Erron.” Free hand extended, another tight squeeze. 

Back on his borrowed mount, fingers against the frayed reigns-he clicked his tongue and squeezed his thighs, passing by slowly, keying in to his voice as he addressed his soldiers. A wave from his second in command-he slowed his mount down more, tipping his hat as he passed by her. Wanting to feel the wind whipping past him again, another click-squeezing tighter and hearing a soft huff in response, he patted at it’s neck-shoulders bouncing with the movement.


	3. Blister in the sun

“Don’t bend my damn cards, Sy-” Drumming at the table beneath him he glared up at him-furrowing his brow as he watched him lazily flick down the edge of a playing card in his grasp. “Y’know how long these have lasted me?” he muttered beneath his breath-drawing his eyes to card he’d set down in front of him-close to winning the sixth and final trick, ready to reach out and take both cards once his playing partner set down their card. Blotched brown, the four cards in his hand-he looked them over, the design printed on them still there, the color of hard stock paper fading to a light yellow.

“Hearts…”

“Toss it down, c’mon now. Ain’t got all day…” he smirked, leaning back in his chair-balancing on the back legs, catching himself before he went too far.

A guttural sound, rasping up his throat as he threw down his card. “You win-”

“Hey, what do ya know…” Erron chuckled, patting at his chest-the ace of spades in a breast pocket, more tattered than the rest in his deck. “Still got it.” He reached out for the cards, shuffling them up in his hands and tapping the deck against the table. “I’m out patrolling’ the damn market for the next few hours, you fellas want somethin?” standing back up he gingerly set the deck into it’s dark oak case, sliding the lid back over it-snug. He shook the box, listening to the dull noise of cards hitting the case. Slipping it his rucksack before tossing it over his shoulder-he glanced down at him-waiting for his response.

“No…” An expected answer, Erron nodded-slapping his hand down on the table and bidding his goodbye-urging him not to get himself or Ermac into any trouble while he was gone. He walked out, laughing under his breath as he heard the scoff that emanated from Reptile. The same joke, though it would always tickle him.

The midday sun sweltered above him, baking the earth - despite the heat the market was crowded, bodies pushing and jostling past each other, shouts and conversations held in different languages created a hectic energy that seemed to buzz in the air. “Keep an eye out on him-last time I walked past him he was near dozin’ off. Can’t blame him, honest… but we got work to do out here...” he mentioned, slight scowl hidden from sight as he peeled off his hat, and ran a hand through his dampening hair-wishing he’d picked out a straw one when he’d prepared himself in the morning. Always drawn to the same hat-he kept it off for a moment as he spoke to the guard beside him-a higher up in the ranks of men, leading the group that was tasked with patrolling the area they found themselves in. He ran a finger around the leather band of his hat-touching at each silver coin-tapping his finger against the warming metal.

“I have been keeping an eye on him, don’t worry.” the man responded with a grunt, his gaze darting around them.

“Gil, if I see him takin’ a nap…” He shaded his eyes with a hand-searching out the crowd that moved past them, tracking bodies for a few seconds. His name, shorthanded to something Erron could more easily manage-he grumbled again before placing the hat back on his head. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

The shorter man responded swiftly-a familiar language Erron understood fully, though he rarely took to speaking it. The man took a few steps towards a heap now stirring on the ground next to a thin tarp. In the opposite direction, a familiar path that took him near a stand of tents and diminutive outbuildings. He whistled softly as he walked, each step slow and meandering-keeping his head on a casual swivel, keying in on anything that caught his attention, things he could easily dismiss after a moment. Another tune leaving his lips after a few minutes of walking, the time slowly trickling by as he continued to sweat.  
He muttered gently behind his mask, hot breath being blown back against his skin with each breath “Way down yonder… down in the meadow. There’s a poor wee little lamby… the bees and the butterflies pickin’ at its eyes.” he stopped at a stand, watching the interaction between the vendor and their customer-a different language, one he’d heard before but rare enough that he couldn't follow the words spilled out into the air, shouting-trying to hear themselves over the bustle that flowed through the outdoor market. “The poor wee thing cried for her mammy…” he lowered his voice, drifting off into a soft hum as he turned and kept walking. A simple song, he recalled the lilting voices-the union men that rocked themselves to sleep. He thought back to the men and women he’d seen two weeks ago, laying and sunning themselves on hard earth-their lives sworn to duty, a choice more or less made by each individual as opposed to how it’d been years ago. He mulled over his stint in uniform-just for a moment before the smell hit him, even from behind the mask he could smell the meat in the air-heavy with smoke as he took another turn, overpowering the smell of floral cuttings that had been heavy down the passageway he’d walked a few minutes ago.

He stood by the tent-watching silently as smoke passed over his face-making his eyes water. A heavy cut of some outworld critter, slowly roasting over hot embers. He groaned, trying to ignore his growling stomach. The vendor smiled up at him, catching his gaze and motioning eagerly at him. “No… I’m fine.” he waved the man off, refocusing himself and walking past him. Picking into his jacket, a stitched pocket that laid flat against his left breast-he slipped a hand inside, reaching out for the small pocket watch that ticked away. Stopping his pace he took a half step to the side, out of the movement of the crowd that moved by like a wave. He looked it over, touching at the engraved text that seemed to thin with each year, a habit to rub his thumb against the gold metal. Popped open, he glanced at the time and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Another hour to take down. He shut it quickly, listening to the snap of the locking mechanism and tossing it back into the pocket-something he rarely concerned himself about-the time, unless need be.  
Back on his march, he stuffed his hands into his pocket and avoided brushing up against shoulders-the space thinning as stands grew closer together. A display caught his eyes, curious dark purple orbs stacked up into a pyramid, careful and with a dedicated hand. Some species of fruit, he reached for one near the top, pressing his finger down against the yielding flesh.

“Erron-” His eyebrows slowly drifted up at the sound of his name, a slight surprise-the voice easily placed. Turning around he met eyes with the taller man, a few feet away from him-watching him with a pensive smile on his face.

“Hey… fancy seeing’ you here.” A few steps-shortening the distance between them, he stuck out his hand, the man quickly taking it and giving him a tight squeeze. “How’ve you been?” hands back in his pockets, he tipped his face up slightly to meet his eyes more easily.

“I have been well…” he gestured to the canvas sack held under an arm “merely attending to some tasks I’ve pushed aside for far too long, taking advantage of the free time I have found today-” a soft chuckle leaving Kotal’s lips as he shook his head and patted at the sack.

Erron touched lightly at the strap of his worn rucksack, tight across his chest fighting for space against a lone bandoleer “fixin’ up some grub for your men?” he inquired softly, watching as Kotal took a step to the display set up behind them.

“For myself…” he picked up a few of the orbs, turning them over in his hand-fingers rubbing against the outside of each one. A slight frown, he returned one and picked out another-casting a glance at Erron as he held out his payment towards the approaching vendor “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m alright. Just chuggin’ along… enjoyin’ the sights.” Erron casually replied, brushing some dust off of his trousers.

“Are you on duty?”

“Yeah, one of the highlights of my day-sweatin’ my balls off out here…”

“If that is the case I’d recommend you wear something more… conductive to a breeze.” Kotal chuckled, turning and walking back out from under the tent-dipping his head slightly to avoid the lip of fabric that draped down. A slow pace, waiting for Erron to join him.

“Like what you got on?” Erron motioned to the man’s garb with a tilt of his head. A thin breechcloth, panels of fabric barely reaching mid way to his thighs.

Kotal stopped, turning his head slightly-offering Erron a grin “a preferable option perhaps…” he mused slowly “I am unbelievably comfortable in my attire…” lips pulling up, grin widening as he let out a short laugh.

“Sure looks like it-'' Erron reached his hand up and back, scratching at his neck-trailing his fingers up to touch at damp hair, his hair growing longer-on track to reach the collar of his shirt. He let out a soft huff of laughter, unable to hold back his amusement.

“I do not wish to impose on your time…” his tone shifting slightly, a faint air of curiosity to his words “am I keeping you from your task?”

“Ah don’t sweat it… got eyes in the back of my head.” He reassured him, wiping his hand on the seat of his trousers. "Though I should probably shove off..." 

Kotal nodded, focusing his gaze on the people moving in front of them. Rustling through the canvas sack beneath his arm, he retrieved the dark fruit. “Have you ever tried this before-” he held it out, his hand near Erron’s.

“Honest… I don’t think I have.” he thought back to what all he’d first eaten years ago, most of outworld’s fare agreeing with his gut-not being able to place ever having tried the fruit before.

“Take this, hopefully you will enjoy it…”

“If I end up as sick as a dog- '' Erron turned his palm up, Kotal dropping the orb into his hand. He murmured-brows meeting as he examined the fruit. Squeezing at the flesh, a supple yeild to his fingers-filled with juice.

“That is highly unlikely…” a slight uptick of a stifled laugh though his words, Kotal looked over his face-keying into Erron’s expression.

“Well, if you don’t see me again after this…” Erron tossed up the fruit, catching it in his hand and pointing at Kotal “you’ll know what did me in-” he teased, pulling his rucksack over and setting the fruit inside “thanks, Kotal.”

A quick pat against Erron’s arm “of course, I look forward to hearing your opinion-whenever we may see each other again."

Seeing him again-he met his eyes, finding those pale orbs of his irises fixed on his. 


	4. Resonance

Laying nude in bed, he counted the shallow breaths he took in-relaxing deeper, nails digging into thin flesh-a tart smell filling his nose as he peeled the purple orb in his hands. An easy morning, one of the few days he had to himself until he made a later round at the palace. Just himself and his idle thoughts, enjoying the silence-a few low chirps of bird calls flowing into his room from an open window. Peels on his stomach, he held up the fruit-taking note of it’s pale white slivers that made up the orb-similar enough to an orange yet smaller. He pulled one apart from its neighbors, placing it gingerly in his mouth.

Easily pierced by his teeth, he fought back a grimace at the taste coating his tongue-almost sickly sweet. The taste lingered in his mouth, fading to a light tartness.

He finished the fruit, popping each silver into his mouth-focusing on how the taste seemed to change with each one-the sweetness not as overwhelming as the initial bite had been. No time of day he readily gave to most people, a handful of individuals he could give his consideration to-a small group of those he trusted. But now, his mind drifted. Drifted to that man, a thoughtful haze as he recalled the few interactions between them. Appreciating what he’d come to glean from him so far, the refreshing humility in his person despite his standing, the genuine affect to his voice. If he came to see him again-he made a mental note to pay him back for the curious fruit. Sitting up, the peels tumbled over onto the mattress-he brushed them aside, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and standing slowly.

A few faded photographs on the nightstand table-a sturdy box he’d repurposed, working well enough for what he needed. He picked them up, shuffling them in his hand and shaking his head. Pulled out from the confines of a worn journal he kept beneath his bed, pictures he’d sometimes take a look at-the last time he’d held them in his hands being years ago. No use in dwelling on them-he stuffed them back between the pages of his journal, lifting up the edge of the mattress and sliding it underneath. He pulled on his boxer shorts then searched out for a clean shirt-airy sleeves, not clinging too tightly to his arms, he stared at himself in the faded glass of his dresser. Lacing up the leather placket that ran down to midchest, he frowned-taking note of the scruff on his face-glimmering of silver catching light. A thin duster pulled on, he headed for the door-making sure to grab his old Henry before leaving the cool dark confines of his house.

“Damn it…” he sank into the chair-his gaze drifting from the person in front of him to the ceiling, taking note of the banners that hung stiffly in the stagnant heat of the building. It was loud, the noises around him ringing in his ears though they were in a smaller room-door shut to the bustle and movement of the shop. He could still feel the heat coming from furnaces, roaring fires burning in the din behind the door. The heavy clang of metal hitting metal resonating inside of his head. He leaned an elbow against the rickety armrest of the chair and impatiently tapped at the leather of his mask-hoping his stay wouldn't be too long. “There’s a part… from the mechanism-a spring I think. Can’t fix it myself otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“And to believe I thought you enjoyed visiting me…” The woman muttered, her gaze held downward-examining the rifle she’d set on her desk.

“Yeah, only in your dreams, hun.” He leaned his weight back, setting his hat in his lap and crossing a leg. “So, do ya think you’ll be able to handle it?”

“I should, there is nothing here we cannot make up-especially for a firearm so… rudimentary.”

“Easy there, I’ve got my pride-that rifle you’re holding there… it’s been through more shit than you could imagine.”

“If you insist. A few weeks, four at the most. I have a certain undertaking I should work on before starting on your rifle. The client is very… fickle.”

“Are they?”

“Yes… so particular...” She stood up, searching out a sheet of parchment from the cluttered desk top-a flourish of writing, handing it out to Erron. A gleam of metal on the desk catching Erron’s eye as he leaned forward and took it the sheet. He folded it, not caring to read it-having done business here long enough, trusting her. Five folds, absentmindedly making a triangle out of the thick parchment before setting it into a pocket. “What’s this…” he asked, pulling his rifle out of the way, it’s stock hiding the metal from view.

“Armour…” she reached out for the rifle, looking it over once more before she set it aside behind her-a larger expanse of room offered on a wooden bench.

He set a hand on it-a chest piece, bordered by worn leather, an intricate design to it. He took in the detail worked into the metal, fingers pushing across raised edges, a coiled serpent-wide spread wings jutting out from its sides. A click of exasperation bringing him back, the woman swatting his hand away with her own. “Erron-”

“Shay… what? Let me guess, the oils from my hands-”

“You are free to look but I will ask you don’t touch, and yes, your hands are disgusting.”

“Thanks…” Erron chuckled, rolling his eyes at her words-wiping his hand off on the front of his shirt. “Four weeks?”

“I will keep you updated, are we still set for tomorrow?”

“Yeah… I’ll see if I can get someone to tag along-sweeten the pot.” He thumbed down the brim of his hat and set it on “still thinkin’ you had somethin’ up your sleeves last time…”

“Still upset over losing? You should be more careful with what you wager.” She laughed, crossing her arms and looking him over-the same narrowed gaze that she held when she inspected the firearm.

Erron huffed, considering her words “We’ll see…” he knew she’d put up what she won from him last time “you have a good day, young lady-” he tipped his hat, chuckling at her response-raising a hand and waving him off as she poorly hid a smile. Out the door and back through the cacophony, a literal hell on earth-sweating through his shirt, hotter than he’d remembered. A few familar faces as he made his way out, he gave a curt nod towards a man pulling out a glowing rod of metal from a furnace. Walking out as fast as his feet could carry him, thankful for his dulled hearing.

“Shit… are you mad at me? Got no right being so sassy, girl.” Erron set his hand against the soft fuzzy nose of his mount, gently pushing her face away from his stomach-a few painful nips from her teeth. He continued to brush her, focusing on her neck-watching some copper hairs fall away from her thick hide. “Tomorrow… I’ll get ya that treat you like… wash you too.” He patted roughly at her neck, due for a wash, dust clinging to his palm. Tracking the sun setting-he brushed her a little longer than he usually did, focusing the bristles along the areas she’d lean up on against the wooden posts-getting to where she would try to itch. “There you go…” Another pat-along her side, feeling the swell of her breathing. She moved once he unhaltered her, setting off into the distance-seeking out the fresh pile of dried grass to bed down on. Might as well do the same, an early morning awaiting him.

An uneventful day, tiredness still pulling into his muscles all the same-he found himself in the muted darkness of his room, the gas lantern on his dresser long since empty. He’d refill it eventually, but there was rarely a need for it. A quick shower and a quicker supper-smoked meat and a swig of liquor sitting in his gullet. He dried off the remaining droplets of water from his skin and walked over the closed window, cracking it open. All the motions he usually went through on most good nights, he took in a deep breath of air, picking out the familiar smells of earth-how the smell would shift once the sun was out of sight, the air cooling slightly. He tossed himself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling for a while, keeping his mind empty-hoping it would stay empty for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave up on a limit of chapters, I’ll see how far this goes.


End file.
